


Silk & Cyanide

by HogwartsDuchess (NephthysMoon)



Category: Fever Series - Karen Marie Moning, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Rare Pairing, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-28
Updated: 2009-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:59:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NephthysMoon/pseuds/HogwartsDuchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hermione answered the summons from the Head of the Department of Mysteries, she never expected to be thrown deep into a world of ancient magic, resurrected dead people and - time travel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk & Cyanide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nyruserra](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nyruserra).



Hermione sat in Janus Croaker's office two hours after midnight, wondering why the head of the Department of Mysteries had called her into the sacred womb of the Ministry's most secretive studies. Despite being roommates with Ginny Weasley for the past five years, she still knew little about what went on in the bowels of the Ministry beyond what she'd witnessed herself in her fifth year at Hogwarts. There was little Ginny could tell her about her job, other than the fact that the younger woman was an Unspeakable, occasionally called into the field to study – well, whatever it was that she studied. Hermione blew out a large sigh.

Ginny had been off on one such expedition for the past three weeks, in fact, and it finally occurred to Hermione that something may have happened to her friend. Molly Weasley's insistence that her youngest child remain out of the fray during the Battle for Hogwarts had ensured that she survived the encounter, but the rest of the family had not been so fortunate. Molly herself had not lived to see Voldemort vanquished – the Dark Lord had killed her the instant he realized that she'd managed to defeat Bellatrix Lestrange. The twins had perished together when the ceiling in the seventh floor corridor had collapsed in on them during the battle, and Arthur had simply vanished. Bill had taken a curse meant for his wife, and Ron – Hermione brushed the memory aside. If Ginny were gone, she didn't know what she would do. Harry's sacrifice while duelling Voldemort after Molly's death hadn't been unexpected, but it still hurt.

Charlie had been a doll, taking a position with the Dragon Keepers in Britain so that he would be at the Burrow to look after the two of them while they finished Hogwarts, but he'd left three years before to return to Romania, and she and Ginny had taken a flat together in London. Ginny's hours were often odd, mired as she was in her research, but she frequently resurfaced to remind Hermione to put down the book and eat, or go out to The Three Broomsticks and listen to Seamus sing – and even occasionally to date. Hermione sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying the tender flesh with them, hoping that this unexpected meeting wasn't to tell her that the one person she had left in the world had died.

Janus Croaker walked in, breaking her into her thoughts, and she turned to him with a wan smile, waiting to see what he had to say. The man was positively ancient, and he shuffled across the room to sit facing her at his desk.

"Ah, Miss Granger," he said in his rough voice, and Hermione was struck by the very Ginny-ish thought that he had certainly been named appropriately, for the old man's voice could only be described as a croak, but she stifled the laughter that threatened to bubble up. "I suppose you must wonder what it is that I need with the most prominent member of the Department of Magical Creatures."

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, waiting for the bad news she was certain was coming.

"It has come to my attention that you recently investigated the appearance of several supposedly mythical creatures that appeared across Britain," he offered with a smile, shuffling through a stack of parchment on his desk. "Yes, here it is." He pulled one sheet out and offered it to her. As she took it, she realized that it was her own report, filed with her Department several months before.

"It was quite impressive, Miss Granger. You debunked a long-standing 'fact' that lamiae were extinct by finding that one up in the cave over in Kyleakin." She handed the report back. She knew what was in it, but she didn't understand how it was of interest to this man. "We have another situation on our hands, dear girl, one we were hoping to enlist your aid in."

Hermione nodded. It began to make sense. Thank goodness, but it wasn't about Ginny at all. The Department of Mysteries wanted to borrow her for a time. A familiar thrill raced up her spine; it had been a long time since she'd gotten this excited about an assignment – her successful attempts to free House Elves had been the highlight of her career thus far, and though she had been instrumental in making many changes in how the Ministry viewed magical creatures (even going so far as to get the department's name changed, removing 'regulation and control'), she found that, her goal accomplished, her enjoyment in her work was beginning to wane. A new assignment, with such an intriguing department, could only serve to help her find passion in her work again.

"It has come to my attention that while you were in Kyleakin, you discovered a handful of ancient wards, wards you were unable to break," he said quietly. Hermione pursed her lips; it never failed to irk her when she found a spell she couldn't break, and those wards had been impenetrable. It had been one of the most infuriating days in her adult life.

"I did," she acknowledged. "They were exceedingly difficult to trace; it was almost as though they had been concealed by a method not known to modern magic."

"You're more right than you know," Croaker muttered mysteriously. "I would like you to be part of a small team I am sending to Kyleakin to investigate those wards - and whatever they are concealing." Hermione sucked in a breath. Spend weeks in the field trying to break impossible spells with a team of Unspeakables? It sounded fascinating. And who knew what lay beyond the wards! It could be anything.

"Who else would be on this team?" she asked curiously. "And when would we leave?"

"The rest of your team will be arriving shortly. Two are members of my staff, and one is," he paused so briefly she wasn't sure if he realized he'd done so, "a specialist, of a sort. His exact skills and position are the best-kept secret of my department, and that is saying quite a lot. During the course of your investigation, he may do or say things that are incomprehensible to you, but he is the team leader, and I trust that you will respect that."

"I understand," she agreed. Clearly, whoever the team leader was, the man was a half-breed of some sort, with abilities that would help in their investigations. A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts as she tried to puzzle out what magical creatures could mate with wizards and which would most likely have the skills that would benefit this mission.

"Come in," Croaker called, and the door opened to reveal someone Hermione had never thought to see in this life. "Ah, Mr. Diggory, please join us." Cedric Diggory made his way into the room, followed by Ginny, who smiled mischievously at Hermione's blank look.

"Cedric and I are joining you, of course," Ginny said quietly.

"Cedric?" Hermione croaked. "But how in the name of Dumbledore! No spell can reawaken the dead!"

"Aye," came a voice from the doorway, and Hermione looked up to see Oliver Wood leaning against the door frame with a peculiar look upon his face. "Nae spell can reawaken the dead, but Aoibheal can."

"Ah-veel?" Hermione stuttered. "What is that? A potion?"

"Nay, Aoibheal is not a potion, and I dinnae think she'd teak too kindly to being called such," Oliver warned. "'Tis best we wait until we're in the Motherhouse to discuss it further, though. I can see yer full of questions; always were a bit like tha' as I recollect."

"It's alright, Hermione," Ginny said soothingly. "It's part of the mission and it's something we'll need to discuss privately."

"Mr. Wood, I'm putting them in your hands," Croaker said jovially. "I know you'll exceed expectations. I rather think it will be a bit before I see any of you again, so I shall wish you a safe and productive journey. No matter what should happen out there, I want you all to make sure you take every precaution. We are dealing with a magic far beyond any we've ever encountered before." Hermione barely noticed the tug on her arm as Ginny pulled her to her feet and out the door. She kept staring blankly at Cedric, wondering how such a thing was possible. Who was this Aoibheal and what power did she possess that she could do that which Dumbledore himself said was impossible?

As she became aware of her surroundings, she took in the sumptuous environment of what appeared to be a very large manor home. "Welcome to the Motherhouse," Ginny offered, tugging her along a grand hallway and to a flight of stairs. "You'll be in the room next to mine tonight, but I expect you'd like a little explanation first." Hermione nodded mutely. How in the world had they ended up in this house? She didn't recall leaving the Ministry. Her usually genius brain was swirling through every possibility it could conjure to explain the current events but nothing was coming to mind.  _Perhaps,_  she thought sulkily,  _this is my comeuppance for always knowing the answer._

They turned into a cosy lounge, filled to the rafters with books. Hermione allowed herself to be seated in a chair nearest the blazing fire and as the warmth of the flames penetrated the fog in her mind, she looked around the room, her gaze stopping as she landed on the unmistakeably alive Cedric Diggory, seated across from her.

"What is going on?" she managed to say. Her tongue was thick in her mouth and she swallowed several times. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Oliver nodded at Ginny, as though giving her permission, and a moment later, her friend was crouching on the floor in front of her, bright brown eyes with the faintest hint of green at the centre boring into her own.

"I know you've always wondered what I do for the Department," she began. "The truth is, I study the Fae." Ginny paused to let the meaning of this sink in. Faery were legend, every first year knew that. They'd never existed, not in the form Ginny was clearly speaking of. "Despite popular belief – a belief strongly endorsed by the Department, I might add – Fae are quite real. But until a year ago, there were no records of them – nothing to tell us anything about them except old legends. In other words, we had no hard proof, only faint traces of magic too powerful for any wizard to have performed."

"A family was discovered, one that had been charged with keeping the Covenant between wizards and the Fae," Cedric explained. "The family line had died out, and a small portion of their records came into the hands of the Ministry. Minister Shacklebolt immediately understood the ramifications, and took it to Mr. Croaker."

"And that was where I came in," Ginny explained. "I'd been charged with the task that all new Unspeakables are given – delving into the lore of the Fae to search for some way to find them. I couldn't do it, of course. The information we had at the time was so vastly inaccurate that it is a wonder we knew anything at all. But since it was my department then, Mr. Croaker passed the one tome that was recovered to me."

"But who recovered it?" Hermione demanded. "Surely it didn't just fall into Kingsley's lap? And that still doesn't explain Cedric!"

"Yer righ'," Oliver said. "It dinnae 'fall' intae th' Minister's lap. I gave it tae him. I dinnae think ye ken the full impact of wha' Weasley's telling ye. The hows dinnae matter. And as for Diggory, Aoibheal brough' him back – tha's all ye need to ken."

"Wood!" Ginny snapped, clearly surprised at his tone. "Hermione is completely uninitiated into this! Have a little patience!" He glared at her, but surprisingly enough, the big man didn't argue with her. He just nodded, as if to tell her to continue her story.

"Wood recovered the book from the last member of an ancient clan and brought it immediately to the Minister," she said quietly. "Two days later, Cedric just kind of appeared out of nowhere. I'll let him tell you about that, but the point is that we've been asked to go on this mission because of those wards you found. Wood is – a freelance specialist, I guess you can call him. He doesn't have an official title, but he knows more Fae lore than anyone I've ever met. He's here because Mr. Croaker truly believes that Wood is the best person to help us break those wards and discover what's hidden behind them. Cedric actually met the Queen of the Fae – Hermione, imagine it! And I'm here because this is what I've been studying for the past three years."

"Three years?" Hermione looked surprised. "I thought you didn't get the book until a year ago."

"We didn't – all we had was the old records, and I worked with those for two years. When the book showed up, it was given to me to study." Ginny reached out and braced her hands on Hermione's knees, giving the older woman a pleading look.

"And why am I here – I don't know anything about these Fae." She was almost ashamed of it. For the first time in a long time, she was in a room with people who knew more about a given subject than she did, and she felt inadequate. Clearly the three of them were better equipped to handle this than she was.

"Besides the fact that you found the wards, which indicates a certain sensitivity to Fae magyk, you're the cleverest witch in Britain, Hermione," Ginny teased. "Of course we need you." Cedric nodded silently, but Oliver stared unblinkingly into the fire, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

"Okay," she muttered. "What exactly are we doing?"

"Wood thinks the wards you found are the ones we've been searching for," Ginny explained. "The rest of that clan's library is probably hiding behind them, and if we can just get to it we'd have so much more material – we'd know everything about them!"

Clever witch that she was, Hermione looked from Ginny to Cedric and finally at Oliver. "What aren't you telling me?" she asked shrewdly.

"There's something of a time limit," Cedric said ruefully. "Aoibheal warned me before she sent me back that the Covenant keeps the dark Fae imprisoned in their realm. We have until Halloween to find the Covenant and keep up the humans' side of it, or Aoibheal will be powerless to prevent them from escaping."

"Dae ye ken now, Granger?" Oliver growled. "The dark Fae will wreak such havoc upo' the world as to make Voldemort look like a wee lad."

"They must be stopped, Hermione," Ginny said quietly. Hermione stared down into those familiar eyes, wondering when the weight of the world had shifted onto the younger woman's shoulders. Had it been when she'd discovered the truth about these Fae, or had it begun even earlier than that? Had it happened the moment that Harry had fallen to the hard, cold floor of the Great Hall, the scar that had once proclaimed him to the world as the Boy Who Lived gone, and a look of horror on his face, as though Death had come and shown him terrors that they would never know? When was the last time she'd really seen Ginny, not just looked at her?

"Okay," she whispered, watching the relief that flooded through Ginny's eyes. "I'll help." There was something else, she mused as Cedric and Oliver excused themselves. Something in what Croaker had said –

"Hermione?" Ginny asked from the doorway, a look of concern on her face, and Hermione realized that she'd been standing there for some time, waiting for her. She stood and joined Ginny, walking through the halls of the manor.

"What is this place?" She looked at Ginny curiously.

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed. "We never did get to that, did we? This is the Motherhouse." At Hermione's blank look, she continued. "When the Department was first founded, there was a lot of curiosity about what happened, and Unspeakables were getting attacked frequently. So the Department Head of the time had this manor constructed for anyone who wanted to live here. It's only accessible through the Department itself, so it's practically impenetrable – thanks to some of the more confusing and complex magic we've studied over the ages, it quite literally does not exist outside of the Department."

"But – how?" Hermione asked, gazing out of a window to see a beautiful lawn bordered by tall trees and crowned by a blue-black sky full of twinkling stars.

"It's really difficult to explain, honestly, but if you can imagine Grimmauld Place and those tents we used for the World Cup and some really tricky Transfiguration, that kind of explains it," Ginny said, her face scrunching up in concentration as she tried to find the words. Hermione struggled for a moment as she tried to wrap her mind around what Ginny was saying, remembering the many different enchantments that had gone into making Grimmauld Place what it had been, plus the Enlarging Charms that had no doubt gone into the tents, and perhaps a bit of Vanishing…she smiled as she understood.

"I see," she said. "That's really quite clever."

"Well, it's not as secure as a Fidelus Charm would be, but can you imagine the nightmare of trying to keep it a secret once the Secret Keeper died?" Ginny shook her head as she spoke. "I can't even fathom how that would be possible. And here is your room," she said, gesturing to a doorway labelled 164. "I'm right next door, and if you need anything, just poke your head in. From what I understand, we'll be leaving in about three days. I know it isn't obvious, but Wood was really happy when Croaker decided to include you. It kind of reminded me of all those stories of that manic Quidditch fever he'd get when he had the team up before dawn to train." Ginny laughed a bit and waved goodnight before going into her bedroom. Hermione found that she was exhausted. She barely took note of her surroundings before she slipped beneath the covers and off into sleep.

When she awoke the next morning, it was to find the smiling face of Ginny Weasley looking down upon her own. "Wood stayed up all night studying, and once you've packed, we're going to Kyleakin."

"Today?" she asked groggily. Ginny nodded.

"There's only a week until Halloween, Hermione," she whispered, her smile dropping. "We've got to find the Covenant and remake it, and we've only got seven days."

"Okay, I'm up. Do I have time to shower, at least?" she snarked.

In less than two hours they were checking into rooms at the White Heather Hotel in Kyleakin. Oliver admitted to being hungry when Ginny pressed him and agreed that breakfast should be their next stop. Hermione allowed herself a moment to savour the beauty of the two-bedroom suite they'd taken before she was tugged, once again, down a hallway and through another door, this one leading to the world outside.

"Th' lamia's cave is there," Oliver said, pointing at a small outcropping along the shore. "By yer report, the wards are due south of it, so tha's where we'll be heading."

They trekked through the hills and lochs for nearly three hours before Hermione felt them – the brushes of magic. It was old magic, magic that was far, far deeper than anything she'd ever felt. They were close to the wards. Oliver had put her in the lead almost an hour ago, saying that it was best to let the person who knew where the wards were lead the way. She held up a hand, pausing in place.

"We're here," she whispered. Oliver walked until he was level with her and froze in place.

"She's righ'," he too whispered. The press of the wards was nearly stifling to her, but Oliver seemed even more affected and Hermione forced herself to pay attention. Croaker had said something – that Oliver was a specialist.  _The pause,_  she mused, watching him carefully, _I assumed he'd meant that Oliver was some kind of cross between a wizard and another species. What if –_

"Wood, what is it?" Ginny whispered, slipping up behind her team leader. Hermione pushed the thought away. It simply wasn't possible.

"Th' wards are stifling – I cannae really breathe," he muttered. Cedric stepped up to stand on her other side.

"It's definitely Fae," Cedric added. "It's not Aoibheal, but it's definitely Fae."

"You recognize her magic?" Hermione asked, turning to face him. Ginny and Oliver were taking exceptionally small steps into the wards.

"I do," Cedric said quietly, turning towards her. "Because Aoibheal brought me back after Voldemort killed me, I have a small part of her magic in me." Hermione smiled. It made sense to her, which she supposed she should be grateful for; so little of the events of the past few days had.

"What do you suppose they're guarding?" Ginny's voice drifted over to them, and it was with no little surprise that Hermione saw Oliver down on his hands and knees, panting as he crawled.

"I doona ken," he gasped out. Cedric ran over to offer him a hand, but the stubborn man brushed him off.

"You can't touch him, Cedric – not as you are now," Ginny said quietly by way of explanation. "Hermione, give me a hand. We've got to drag him off the protected ground." Hermione ran over to help and the two women pulled him to safety.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, slightly out of breath. Oliver was not a small person, and they had dragged him several hundred metres. Ginny looked to Oliver before speaking, and it was only when he nodded that she continued.

"Oliver is half Fae, of course," she explained. Hermione nodded. It was as she'd expected. "He's also not really a wizard."

Hermione's thoughts raced in circles. Oliver wasn't a wizard – but that was impossible, for she'd seen him use magic herself. And if he used magic, he must be a wizard – unless he had access to Fae magic. But only Faeries had access to Fae magic – the only humans with that ability were…

"He's a druid?" Ginny nodded. "Of course – it makes sense. The wards were put up by druids. It's a sacred circle. So it's guarding…"

"The stones, Hermione," Cedric explained, and she turned to him again, her eyes wide. "There are rituals – things that must be done to maintain the Covenant. The last of the ancient druids has vanished. He disappeared a year ago."

"That's how Wood got the books!" she exclaimed. It was finally beginning to come clear. "The druid vanished and Wood ended up with them."

"Exactly. The wards protect the stones, according to my translations, and the castle. And under a stone in the floor of the castle are the rest of the books and the Covenant." Ginny paused. "But we have to get the Covenant and translate the text for the ritual before Halloween or the Dark Fae break free and then they use the stones and then the world goes to hell." She took a deep breath.

"And only a druid can perform the ritual," Hermione guessed, knowing that she was right even before Cedric nodded. "You can break the wards," she said, looking at Cedric.

"I can," he agreed.

"Then what am I here for?" Hermione demanded, a brief idea brushing behind her mind before she shoved it ruthlessly aside.  _They wouldn't._  They were silent.  _It's impossible._  They were silent. She spun to face Oliver, but he was looking pointedly at his shoes, and the most determined glare she had wasn't affecting him. Ginny met her eyes, but only offered her a weak smile and a helpless shrug. She turned to face Cedric.

"Please tell me this isn't what I think it is," she growled angrily.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. You knew where the wards were – and Ginny told us you were – well…" he trailed off. She felt herself flush red to the tips of her hair. It was suddenly so obvious she couldn't believe she'd missed it before. Oliver was there to perform the ritual to bind the Covenant again. He was probably going to be the one to replace the wards when they were finished. Ginny was there to translate the texts so that Oliver would know what to do, since it was obvious that Aoibheal hadn't given her son any knowledge of his powers. And Cedric was there, acting as Aoibheal to break the Faery wards that were in place. And of course, the Fae of legend liked to complicate things.

It was blood magic that the Cedric needed to break the wards, and she was the sacrifice.

* * *

Two hours later, she was still fuming. They'd lied to her. All of them, really, but it was Ginny's betrayal that stung the most. Not so much that Ginny had lied and claimed it was her expertise that was needed, but that she'd volunteered such personal information to relative strangers. Did the entire Wizarding World need to know that she was still a virgin, for Merlin's sake?

For that was the sacrifice, of course. Virgin's blood. It couldn't be so easy as just that, of course. The wards were very specific. The Fae magic required the sacrifice – not of her life, but of her virginity. It was a sick twist on every Muggle horror novel she'd ever read. It was the stuff of nightmares, only now it was her reality. The fate of the world, Muggle and wizard alike, rested on her virginity. It was the most horrifying, embarrassing – and utterly hilarious thing she'd ever heard.

Suddenly, the humour of the situation completely overwhelmed her and she collapsed into what could only be termed hysterical giggles. She couldn't help it. She'd waited for Ron for most of her teen years; she'd thrown herself at Charlie in an attempt that was far better forgotten on the first anniversary of Ron's death; she'd dated Viktor for nearly a year and still managed to remain virginal, and now she, after all of that, was about to lose her virginity to a man she thought was dead until two days ago to break magical wards created by creatures that she'd been told didn't exist while on a mission she didn't understand. She couldn't help it – the laughter just kept coming, and while Oliver and Ginny had retreated back to the hotel, prepared to return the moment Oliver felt the wards drop, Cedric was, unfortunately still there – witness to the great Hermione Granger's mental breakdown.

"Hermione, you don't have to do this," he said softly, coming to sit next to her.

"Yes, I do," she replied. "The fate of the world rests on it, so let's just get it over with. I guess I should be grateful that Ginny and Oliver aren't hovering over us."

He reached up, looping a single curl around his finger, and she found herself meeting deep green eyes that were boring tenderly into hers. "I'm not going to rush this." His voice was soft. "Regardless of the circumstances, this is still your first time, and I'm going to try to make it all that you deserve." A wave of gratitude washed over her as she understood what he was trying to say.

"Thank you," she whispered. His face was suddenly closer, and her eyelids fluttered closed as his lips met hers softly.

* * *

"I'm a terrible person," Ginny muttered, for what was the fifth time since they'd Apparated back to the hotel. Frankly, Oliver was getting sick of it. She was sitting on the bed with her head in her hands.

"Yer nae such thing," he denied for the fifth time. "Ye did wha' ye had tae do tae save th' world. Hermione'll forgive ye in time. How many other pure lasses d'ye know?" Once again, he repeated the logic.

"None," she admitted again. "It had to be done, but I'm still a terrible person. I've set my best friend up to lose her virginity on a hillside in Scotland to break a magical ward!" This was a new tactic, one that he couldn't argue. She was right.

"Aye, tha' ye did," he said quietly. "Bu' th' question is, can ye move past it? Hermione will, ye can be sure."

"What if he brutalizes her in the process? What if something horrible happens to her? It will be my fault," she moaned. It was really starting to drive him batty.

"Dammit, girl, can't ye see?" he growled, stepping closer to her. "D'ye think yer the only one tha' cares for her? D'ye think that she was th' only one tha' could hae done? Cedric's been mad for her since we were in school! She's in hands tha' love her."

He hovered over her, placing his hands on either side of her hips until his face was nearly touching hers. She looked up, her eyes growing wide as she registered his nearness.

"Wood – what are you doing?" she squeaked.

"Cedric migh' have th' corner on longevity," Oliver said, bending closer until his lips were barely brushing hers, "bu' he's nae got the corner on wanting." With no other warning, he closed the barest distance between their lips, crushing hers beneath his own.

* * *

His kisses were warm, firm. They varied in intensity, from soft brushes to hard, demanding kisses that stole her breath, and she admitted to herself that if it had to be this way, she was grateful that Cedric was the one, after all.

She leaned back, resting her head against the soft, mossy ground and breathed in the scent of heather. It was all around her, permeating the air with its fragrance, and she revelled in it. He didn't speak and she was grateful for it. There was too much that could be said; too much that could ruin it if he spoke. She reached up, digging her hands into his brown curls, tugging him into her. He was heavier than she expected, and his weight was slightly uncomfortable, but not unwelcome. His forearms were planted on either side of her head, supporting his upper body, but his lower body was pushing against hers, the slow, steady pressure building, swirling in her lower abdomen growing in direct proportion to the rhythm of his hips as they pressed into hers.

He shifted his weight to one arm, sliding the other down to the hem of her jumper and then slipping under it. His hand crept upward as he continued his oral assault until it reached her breast.

* * *

She leaned into the bed, dragging him down with her until he had settled himself between her legs. Their clothes had been lost somewhere in the fray, and she sighed contentedly as his large hands cupped her breasts, gripping them firmly. He balanced himself over her and slowly pushed inside her.

Ginny wrapped her legs around his and rocked her hips up to meet his thrusts, gasping as the sensations washed over her. Oliver's face was a mask of concentration and restraint as he moved over her and she reached up, entangling her fingers in his hair before pulling him down for another kiss.

* * *

Cedric's eyes burned questioningly into hers as his hands reached for the hem of her jumper, but the power of speech was gone from her for the moment. Instead, she lifted her shoulders slightly to raise her back from the ground in a silent acquiesce. She was blinded for a moment by the soft wool, but only for a moment. When she could see again, the cranberry woollen was lying in a crumpled heap next to her, the simple white cotton of her bra exposed.

She'd given up on frilly undergarments in an attempt to rid herself of the foolish hope that she might ever meet someone that could make her feel enough to want to show them off, but now she wished for something more appealing. The stark plainness of the fabric was almost embarrassing in its simplicity, and she was afraid it would mark her as a prudish, cold sort who cared nothing for looking well.

"You're exactly as I'd pictured you would be," he breathed, and the instant darkening of his eyes gave her a flood of relief, and something else – something unnameable that she hadn't felt in a long, long time. Suddenly, she didn't care that her bra wasn't the lacy froth that seemed to spill from Ginny's top drawer; it didn't matter that her hair would never lie sleekly smooth against her shoulders instead of flying in all directions. She felt beautiful, treasured and desired. She sat up and reached behind her, her fingers expertly removing the clasp to her bra and pulling it down her shoulders to land on top of her jumper. Cedric's quick indrawn breath told her all she needed to know.

She reached for his shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion and tossing it aside. His skin was burnished copper in the fading light, sleekly muscled and hinting at an incredible amount of strength despite his rather slender appearance. She gave into an irresistible temptation and leaned into him, nipping at his shoulder, revelling in his shudder, the sudden tightening of his muscles evidence to the control he was so desperately holding onto. And she wanted him to let it go, she realized. She wanted the tight rein he had on his desire to snap, unleashing it on her untested body. She just didn't know how.

She pushed him off her and stood, noting the way his eyes stayed on her face despite the bobbing of her breasts six inches below. His eyes were deep green now, darker than the leaves of the heather that surrounded them, and his entire body was tight with tension – and she thought she might know how to do it after all. She raised her arms, her hands finding her breasts of their own accord and cupping them lovingly, pinching the nipples teasingly and she bit back a smile as his face tightened into an almost pained expression. She trailed her fingers down her sides, dipping her right hand into the hem of her denims and he leapt to his feet as though she'd Cursed him, walking towards her with even, controlled steps.

"You're killing me, Hermione," he whispered before taking her mouth again, reaching down to grab her arms and pin them securely behind her back with one hand as his other fumbled at the snap on her denims. He released her arms once he managed the task and shucked them down, plain white panties and all, until she stood before him, completely nude and amazingly unashamed.

His eyes roved over her, lingering on the swell of her breasts, the dip in her waist, and finally the juncture of her thighs. He was trembling, she noted in satisfaction before he tugged his own pants off and pressed their bodies together, bare skin to bare skin, his lips crushing hers.

Hermione relished the new sensations; the slightly rough texture of his thighs against her own, the sleek hardness of his chest pressing into her breasts, and the hard, insistent throbbing against her lower stomach. She wanted more.

Hermione pulled away from Cedric and grabbed him by the hand, leading him down into the heather. He knelt between her legs, leaning over to take her breasts in his hands and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely. He broke away to trail a blazing line of kisses down her neck, stopping to nip at her shoulder before continuing down to her breast before drawing the nipple into his mouth and laving it with his tongue.

He divided his attention between her breasts while she lay there, uncertain what she should do. She threaded her fingers through his hair again and wrapped her other arm around his back, holding him close, hoping that she was doing the right thing. When his hand slipped between her thighs, she didn't care anymore. His fingers sought out the tiny nub of her clit and began brushing against it slowly. Her head fell backward, her neck no longer able to support it as her body shuddered from the contact.

Cedric caught it between his fingers, rolling it for a few moments before he started a sure, steady rhythm. His other arm snaked around her waist and up her spine to support her head as her body began to tremble in response before flying apart, her moans both embarrassing to her and liberating. She felt her body tense and her hips instinctively thrust towards him, seeking – seeking – and he lay her gently down on the ground before lowering his mouth to hers.

Her body seemed to have a mind of its own as it pushed against his hand and suddenly she felt the most incredible release; her muscles went lax and began to tingle. Her limbs felt heavy, and moving at all seemed completely out of the question, but he was still touching her, driving her back into that intense waiting, her body tightening again – and then he stopped.

Hermione opened her eyes, panting, her body desperate for something, and met the dark green eyes of Cedric. "Don't close your eyes, Hermione," he whispered softly, dipping his head to kiss her again. "I've waited too long for this to worry that you're thinking of someone else." She nodded, his words registering in her muddled brain, but not making a lot of sense. She kept her eyes open, her gaze locked with his as his hand began moving again, and she was close – oh so close – when he stopped again.

His hips shifted, and his hand moved away from her, replaced by something else, and a shiver of fear ran down her spine. He guided himself towards her, and she felt her inner walls slowly stretching, her eyes never leaving his, not even when he caught her hands in his and pinned them over her head. He leaned down and brushed her lips with his, his green eyes apologetic.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered before he thrust in and up and she felt a searing pain and a hoarse cry tore from her throat. She barely recognized that he wasn't moving, that he was lodged deeply inside her and he wasn't moving before he pulled completely out of her and reached down to ply her with his fingers once more.

"Cedric?" she asked on a gasp as her body regained the tight feeling she was beginning to recognize as the precursor to an orgasm.

"The sacrifice was made, Hermione, and I'll not take any more than that from you," he muttered in her ear, his fingers never stopping their movement. "You deserve better than that, and though I'd like to be the one to give that to you, it should be your choice."

"So what are you doing, then?" she managed to squeak out as her body began to tremble.

"Trying to take away the pain I caused," he said tightly, and she understood, suddenly, what this must be costing him, but before she could protest, her body tightened completely before the release hit and she fell limp in his arms, her panting breaths mixing with his.

* * *

She was straining towards him, her body sated, trying to help him with his release when he stopped suddenly, the most peculiar expression on his face.

"Oliver!" she cried. "What's wrong?"

"The wards just dropped," he whispered, falling on top of her. "Having two such things hit a mon so sudden-like takes a lot oot of a mon." Ginny smiled, relishing in the knowledge that she could affect him that much when the implications hit her and her guilt came back full force.

"We have to go right now," she said urgently. "I need to see that Hermione's okay." Oliver nodded and rolled off her, and she jumped off the bed and rushed to pull on her clothes.

* * *

Hermione waited until the tingles subsided. There was something she needed to say to Cedric, but she didn't know what. A man deserved to hear something – anything – after a moment like that, but for the life of her she couldn't find the words. She was still staring up into those mossy green eyes, and she felt her own grow moist as she recognized the emotion that was blazing from them. She opened her mouth to ask him how long he'd felt that way but the loud  _crack_  of someone Apparating nearby stopped her before she could.

"I guess the wards are down," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. She nodded. "We should get dressed – wouldn't want to give anyone a show." He pulled himself off her and tossed her clothing towards her.

Hermione fumbled, tugging her panties over her hips and stepping into her denims, her brain full of thoughts that she couldn't voice, couldn't find the words to express. Cedric's hands stilled hers, and she realized that she'd been trying to snap her denims the wrong way. With excruciating gentleness, he brushed her hands aside and completed the task for her, tugging the zip closed before wrapping her in his arms. The rough wool of his jumper scratched across her sensitive nipples and she shuddered at the surprisingly pleasant sensation. He must have mistaken her movement to mean that she was cold, for he slipped her bra over her arms, his eyes darkening in desire as she adjusted her ample breasts into the cups before she closed the hooks. She raised her hands expectantly, and he pulled the woollen jumper over her head, settling it down around her waist. He reached around her neck and pulled her hair out, catching it in his hands.

As she looked up into his face, she understood that words would never be able to express what it was she was thinking and feeling, and there was only one way she could take that pained, horribly sad expression out of his eyes. She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled into his chest, feeling his intake of breath before his hands dropped to her waist and tightened. She leaned up and met his lips, a soft, gentle kiss to thank him for all that he'd done.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice called her and she broke away from Cedric, regret filling her. They would have to continue this later.

"Over here!" she shouted.

"Oliver, I heard her!" Ginny called and within moments, the two stood at the edge of the small clearing. Ginny rushed over to her and wrapped her arms around her, practically ripping her from Cedric's embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione, so sorry," she muttered into her hair, and Hermione stifled the urge to giggle.

* * *

The next morning dawned clear and cool. Ginny and Oliver were ensconced in the suite's living room, digging through the ancient texts they'd managed to uncover by wandlight the night before. Cedric stood nearby, ready to translate anything Ginny found too difficult, and Hermione sat opposite them all, watching the exchange. While it was obvious that the three before her were a team and had been for quite some time, there was something there – something she hadn't noticed before. She wondered if she'd just missed it, or if it was a new development, but Oliver's hand seemed to creep over to Ginny's every few minutes, as though to brush against it, before he realized what he was doing and pulled it back. And Ginny leaned towards him every so often, as though to rest her head on his shoulder before she stopped herself and sat back upright. After nearly an hour of observing them, Hermione had definitely seen enough.

"Oh, for the love of Dumbledore, you two!" she scolded irritably. "It's fairly obvious so, Merlin, Oliver just grab her bloody hand! Ginny, if you want to put your head on his shoulder then bloody well do it because you two are giving me a headache with your ridiculous attempt at secrecy. I'm sure no one else here cares if you want to touch each other!" They both jumped and looked up at her sheepishly. She noticed, however, that Oliver's hand finally completed its journey to grab Ginny's, and her hair was spilling over his shoulder like a cloud of burnished silk. Cedric looked over at her and grinned. They fell back into silence as Ginny scribbled her translations.

Two hours, eight cups of coffee, and fifteen indecipherable glances from Cedric later, Ginny jumped up and shouted, "I've got it!" She pointed at the inscription she needed and her translation and danced around the living room in excitement.

Oliver looked at her for a moment, a large grin spreading across his face before he swooped down and kissed her so passionately that Hermione was forced to turn her head away. Cedric had crossed to pick up the forgotten translation and began reading it.

"It says here that it is a midnight ritual," he said to no one in particular. "I propose we do this tonight. The closer to Halloween we get, the weaker the barrier will be. Better to strengthen it now instead of waiting until the last moment." Oliver nodded and waved a hand towards them, indicating that he was okay with whatever they decided. He picked Ginny up by her waist so that she could wrap her legs around his and then walked her into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

"Well," Hermione breathed. "That was certainly awkward!"  _But not as awkward as this,_  she added silently. Cedric merely nodded, as though he could hear her thoughts and agreed wholeheartedly with them.

"Shall we go out for lunch?" he offered and she nodded gratefully.

* * *

At ten minutes to midnight, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Cedric Diggory and Oliver Wood waited inside a sacred circle of standing stones. Oliver had gone in a careful circuit around the circle, marking each stone with a different symbol. Once midnight struck, the ritual would be complete and there was little else left to do but wait.

Ginny and Oliver were taking a few moments to mutter at one another over the translations, verifying that they had the order correct. Hermione stood quietly off to the side with Cedric, leaning back into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist. When the ancient clock began to strike twelve, the air began to shimmer violently, and Hermione was struck with the sudden certainty that they should be anywhere but inside the circle as they waited for the barrier to reconstruct, but before she could so much as open her mouth to warn the others, she felt herself wrenched from Cedric's arms by a swirling vortex of wind and sound, tossed hither and yon for what seemed an eternity.

She could hear Ginny's screams of terror, and Oliver's hoarse cries of 'Ginny!'. Cedric was there, too, calling her name, but she couldn't see, couldn't breathe, let alone reach him, and the screams tearing from her own throat were too overwhelming to think of doing anything so mundane as calling back to him.

It seemed like the horror would go on forever, and she wondered then if this would be her death. And then it suddenly stopped, and she felt herself falling, hitting the ground painfully before Cedric's warm arms wrapped themselves around her and she shuddered in relief. He was alive. But Ginny? And Oliver?

"Ginny!" she cried, her eyes unable to find the faint lights she knew to be in the distance.

"Over here!" came the reply, and the clouds suddenly parted to illuminate them with moonlight. She could see Ginny and Oliver and they seemed to be unharmed.

"What happened!" she demanded, running towards them with Cedric at her heels. "Did we close the barrier?"

"Aye," Oliver said shortly as Cedric turned to the stone nearest them to examine the markings more closely. His groan made them all look in his direction.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted. "You didn't just close the barrier, Wood! You sent us back to 1518!"


End file.
